herself out of a spectral haunting fancy that sickness lurked in the
heavy, misty atmosphere. She dreamt of it and the four babies,
started, awoke, and had to recall all her higher trust to enable her
vigour to chase off the oppressive imagination.




CHAPTER III.



Fog greeted Mrs. Kendal's eyes as she rose, and she resolved to make
an attack on the pond without loss of time. But Mr. Kendal was
absorbed nearly all breakfast-time in a letter from India, containing
a scrap in some uncouth character. As he finished his last cup of
tea, he looked up and said, 'A letter from my old friend Penrose, of
Bombay--an inscription in the Salsette caves.'

'Have you seen the Salsette caves?

'Yes.'

She was longing to hear about them, but his horse was announced.

'You said you would be engaged in the morning while I ride out,
Albinia?' he said, 'I shall return before luncheon. Gilbert, you had
better go at once to Mr. Bowles. I shall order your pony to be ready
when you come back.'